To Clutch a Star
by Rosage
Summary: Jill's pride won't let her return with nothing. She knows the stars are within reach if she keeps flying.  Set post-chapter 11, before Jill chases after the mercenaries


A tug on her arm jarred Jill out of her brooding. She opened her eyes and blinked. Though she couldn't remember clenching her fist, her knuckles were white around the reins she held. She felt another pull as her wyvern bucked its head, stretching already taut leather. When her stiff fingers refused to ease their grip, she stepped closer to her wyvern. Reaching to pet a scaly neck, Jill became aware of her shaking wrist and exhaled with frustration. Her mount eyed her passively before evading her reach and curling its head under its wing. Jill snorted. She couldn't even impress a lizard. After her last battle, she couldn't blame it.

Recalling the day's events sent her teeth grinding to a fine polish. "Withdraw," Haar had called it. _Nonsense_, Jill thought. _Anything less than victory is defeat._ _Every soldier knows that. _Scoffing at her captain did not stop Jill from repeating the word. It echoed in her empty chest.

She was scheduled to return home the next morning. Jill imagined the expression her father would make when she landed. Calm and focused, the picture of a wise commander, with anticipation gleaming in his eye. How many times had she etched that sight in her mind to spur her to greater heights? Now, it sent a chill ricocheting down her spine.

She rubbed a gloved hand against her arm. Goosebumps spotted the exposed skin. Her numb ears suggested a cold evening, but the fire tossing in her belly made it impossible to tell.

How would her father's expression change upon hearing her report? Flames pitched her stomach inside out when she imagined the sheen slip from his eye. She couldn't escape it. His stony face glared down from dark clouds, his grim features stood in the trunks of trees, and his admonishments barked from the dry grass crackling under Jill's boots. The sun disappeared like Jill's father turning away, leaving her in the stretching shadows. Nausea took her. Jill cursed. No wyvern knight could afford a weak stomach.

Despite her sickness, Jill yearned to take wing and chase the enemy. The urge had seized her as soon as she'd heard the report of sub-humans, but the Black Knight's orders were final. No soldier was to follow the Crimeans. Jill cursed again. Though she never wanted to admit Haar was right, this time, he was dead-on. Nobody disobeyed Daein's four riders. Not without a death wish.

Thinking of Haar amplified the emptiness of the clearing. Cricket chirp rang in Jill's ears. Alone with the bugs. Good. That was the way she wanted it. She'd marched here to be free of the other soldiers' shameless tomfoolery, hadn't she? She nodded emphatically.

In actuality, she'd crawled out of camp after meeting her comrades' eyes became unbearable, but there was no reason to think about that. The chills sneaking between the cracks in her armor meant nothing.

Besides, Haar had long since retired for the night, not that Jill cared. She huffed. _As if he needs a tent to sleep._ She shook her head, but the gesture was empty. She couldn't put her heart into admonishing her captain's work ethic when she herself had accomplished nothing.

Jill kicked the ground and punched the air, pulling the reins in her clutch. Her wyvern snorted in warning. Stroking its neck absently, Jill wondered what earning a trophy would take. Disobeying orders, yes, and maybe that was suicide, but she was a soldier, and no soldier expected to escape death. She couldn't afford to fear it. No _proud _soldier feared anything. Jill whispered these mantras and willed her heart to steady. No doubt it was pounding with righteous fury at the enemy's escape, but vigilantly remembering her role wouldn't hurt.

Jill switched from chanting military slogans to repeating the lessons her schoolteachers had drilled into her. She'd had to memorize them before earning the right to touch a book. _Sub-humans are the enemy. Sub-humans are monsters. Eradicate the monsters.  
><em>  
>Her dutiful recitations dissolved into fanciful thoughts, scenes etched in her mind as vividly as memories. They had kept her warm through grueling missions and sleepless nights. Crowds lining the grandest country's street. Peasants parting like waves as Jill rode through them. Cheers carrying her name. Gasps at the half-breed's head being paraded. Her commanding officers received the honor of carrying it no matter which soldier made the kill, but Jill always bore the pike in her dreams.<p>

In every fantasy, she marched until she reached her father. He bestowed her with medals that shone like the pride in his eyes.

Jill couldn't give up on that.

Twilight draped around her. A thin layer of light leaked from the retreating sun. It wouldn't last long, but it would show her past Toha and over the sea. Once it extinguished, greater risks threatened. Over foreign waters, she could easily fly too far from land, after which point she would only live as long as her wyvern's strength lasted. If she managed to reach the ship, which she had little idea how to find, she would challenge an entire mercenary troupe and several beasts by herself. If she somehow won, she still had to find her way home, where she faced execution for her disobedience.

Jill would carry the pike to her execution. The darkening sky presented no other certainty. Jill found stars poking out from the canvas, jewels that only shone when the sun dropped. If she flew high enough, she could be one of them. She didn't care if the morning consumed her.

Jill ran a hand over her wyvern's muscles. She'd be relying on little else.

Night was dousing the last slivers of sun. Jill searched for the campfire's light. A chill bit her face, making her long for the heat of the flames. She spotted the guards switching and turned away. She had to take advantage of their lapse and quit the area at once.

Jill spurred her wyvern upright and climbed into the saddle. Powerful wings beat around her. Climbing in altitude did nothing to help Jill's nausea, but she refused to acknowledge it, just as she refused to acknowledge her trembling shoulders. She breathed in deep gulps of air. Wind smacked her face and lodged in her throat.

She grazed the trees, flying as low as possible to avoid detection, but when she tried to gauge her flight's noise level, her heart's pounding drowned it out. After several minutes, Jill looked back. Distant mountains speared an otherwise empty horizon. She'd escaped.

When she reached Toha, she checked for pursuers again. Smoke rose from across the forest. Jill could just make out the glow of her squadron's campfire, nestled in the landscape like a dying ember. It fizzled from view. Cold penetrated her. Seeing nobody else take wing should have relieved her, but instead, she felt small. A lone speck dotting an endless sky.

She turned forward. There was no need to look back.

Jill's ears had turned to ice and she could barely make out the coastline as she flew over it, but she refused to mourn the campfire. She could wait for the torches Daein would carry in her honor. Nothing except her father's pride need light her path. She had everything to look forward to and nothing to regret.

Knowing that nobody would hear, Jill bellowed declarations into the wind.

"My lungs heave with anticipation, my body shakes with excitement, and my heart beats with pride. I feel no fear, for I am a Daein soldier, and soldiers live for the thrill of the hunt!"

Chest swelling, Jill beamed. Her chin fell as the empty sky settled around her. An ache she couldn't understand filled the silence. Something caught in her throat as she leaned toward her mount's ear to whisper one last declaration.

"Father will be proud of me. I know it."

Wind whipped the words from trembling lips, scattering them across the star-speckled sea. Jill straightened her back and flew over a colorless expanse. She painted Daein's fanfare across the waves, brightening the dark landscape with radiant scenes. With little direction, she charted her own path to glory. She saw no destination. The only landmark standing on the distant shore was her father, holding a glint in his eye that Jill knew was within reach.

Gripping the reins, Jill flew toward it.


End file.
